


Before the Wedding

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Female Friendship, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, One Shot, Post-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: A nervous Sansa asks Brienne for advice before her wedding and bedding.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark & Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 19
Kudos: 212





	Before the Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, this is a book canon fic set after ADWD, in a world where Jeyne Poole, not Sansa, was married to Ramsay.

Sansa stood before the mirror, smoothing her skirts and rearranging the shining auburn curls cascading down her back. 

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Brienne assured her, grateful that no one had tried to force her into a gown for this occasion. 

“Thank you,” Sansa replied, but her smile was tense and fleeting. 

Hesitantly, Brienne asked, “Are you troubled? Do you not wish to proceed with the marriage?” If Sansa did not wed, there would be trouble, but Brienne would never force the girl to act against her own desires. 

“No, it’s not that.” Sansa looked up at her with trepidation and said quietly, “The bedding. Lord Tyrion and I never...”

“Oh.” Brienne flushed. “No one spoke to you? Before your wedding?”

Sansa shook her head. “My handmaiden was Tyrion’s mistress, and nothing the queen said could be trusted. I had no one else to ask.” The bride, truly radiant in her gray and white gown, silver embroidered wolves chasing each other along the hem and sleeves, watched Brienne expectantly.

Brienne could feel her face burning. Sansa could not think that _she_ could offer counsel in this matter. The Maid of Tarth, famously ugly with a trail of broken betrothals behind her, was hardly the woman to explain the mysteries of the marital bed. Except she could, and she must. Brienne swallowed hard, watched as Sansa looked shyly at her. 

“Do Northerners perform the bedding ceremony?” Brienne asked, suddenly unsure. Beyond the uncertainty of the act itself, Brienne had always dreaded being stripped, leered at, exposed before a crowd of men. That fear had intensified after her time at Harrenhal, held down by Vargo Hoat’s odious men and mocked. 

“No. Tyrion didn’t allow one the first time, either.” Sansa’s brief marriage to Tyrion was not something they ever really discussed. It upset Sansa to speak of that time, and Brienne did not wish to hurt the girl simply to satisfy her own curiosity. Even Jaime admitted that Tyrion had always been a lusty man, often spending his time and coin on whores. Jaime had also confided that Tyrion felt more comfortable with women whose motivations he understood, after the terrible incident with his first wife. 

“Then Jaime will make sure none of the southron guests suggests a bedding. You need not fret about that,” Brienne offered. “He can stand watch outside your chamber door if you wish.”

Relief shone in Sansa’s eyes. “Thank you.” She looked down at her hands, fingers nervously twisting a silver ring. “Were you frightened?”

Brienne had never discussed this with Sansa, had let the rumors remain only that. She and Jaime kept their affection discreet, for their own sakes as well as to support Sansa’s claim on Winterfell. Jaime’s presence was barely tolerated by the northern lords.

“Yes,” Brienne admitted, “but I wanted him enough to do it anyway.”

Sansa was still looking down, her long red hair partially covering her face. Her hands and shoulders shook slightly, trembling with nerves. She kept her face averted, but a hectic flush stained her cheeks. “What was it like?” 

The thought of speaking about the things that she and Jaime had done made Brienne’s stomach ache. She could scarcely stand it when Jaime would find her in the Great Hall or in the practice yard and whisper in her ear the things he wanted to do with her. Brienne was not ashamed of her choices or the happiness she’d found with the most unlikely of men, but that was between the two of them. Speaking about it to others seemed like a betrayal. 

Still, Brienne could not remain silent. Her lady needed her. “It will hurt,” she finally admitted. “But the pain will fade quickly. It will hurt less if he takes the time to …” She considered her words. “Prepare you.” Jaime had spent so much time touching and kissing her that Brienne had begun to wonder if he would ever take her maidenhead. By the time he’d finally entered her, all her fears had been forgotten. 

Sansa’s brow furrowed, as if she wanted to ask more but wasn’t sure how to word her question.

Before Brienne could think too much about it, she hurried on. “The first time will be awkward, and messy, and will likely be over quickly.”

Sansa looked more concerned, not less. Exactly what Brienne didn’t want. 

“But it gets better,” Brienne blurted out. “Just follow his lead, like you would while dancing.”

“Like dancing,” Sansa echoed. She looked up, brows furrowed. “It gets better?” She sounded doubtful. “I’ve seen beasts mating, horses and such. It does not look… comfortable.” 

For a moment Brienne was speechless, and then a giggle burst out of her. She clapped a hand over her mouth until she got a hold of herself. “I would not call it comfortable, my lady. It’s…”

_Intimate. Hot, sticky, sweaty, full, breathless, euphoric._ Endless in its variations. Last night Jaime’s head had been between her splayed thighs, his moans vibrating against her cunt, his hot hard cock in her mouth. Things she’d never imagined, more pleasurable than she could describe. 

“It’s the closest you can ever get to another person. With a bit of practice, you will come to enjoy it. Your lord husband will teach you.” At least, she hoped he would. Brienne did not know him well, but he seemed genuinely fond of his bride. He ought to care for her pleasure too. 

And if Sansa did not enjoy it, Jaime would be there, outside the door. Brienne had to trust in him. He’d heard all manner of things in his time in the Kingsguard. He would know if something was going badly wrong in the bridal bedchamber. He would not allow it to continue. 

Sansa looked up finally, her cheeks still rosy, but her eyes clearer. 

“Are you ready to go?” Brienne asked gently.

The girl nodded, and Brienne opened the chamber door, following her lady down the corridor and out to the godswood, where her husband waited for her.


End file.
